THE DOCTOR IS IN

I have been trying to follow my sister-in-law's advice from my last post, which I summarize as: Do everything. Keep trying. Keep traveling. Keep having fun. Keep trusting God. And go to the doctor.

I was due for my annual check-up at the OBGYN, but I had been debating about whether or not to inquire about fertility testing when I went in for my appointment. It seemed a bit like jumping the gun, or to be really Bible-y about it, pulling an Abraham and taking matters into my own hands (minus the sleeping-with-the-help thing). To wit, we've only* been trying in earnestness for five months.

On the other hand, we've been off of any form of birth control for 13 months, and during the first half of that time period, we used the "fertility awareness method" as contraception with progressively less vigilance each month.

I took Sara's nudge as my green light. After all, she's a sonographer, so she deals with this kind of thing all the time. So I called the OB and scheduled an annual exam, plus a fertility consultation.

Let's just be honest: Going to the OB for a pap smear is the absolute pits. I'd almost rather have a tooth drilled. You're given a piece of paper to wear while the doctor cranks open your hoo-ha with a cold metal tool. Now I was adding to that experience a conversation about the dreaded i word -- infertility. (I just shuddered. It's worse than uttering "Voldemort.")

The anticipation of the appointment was actually much worse than the appointment itself. My doctor is very professional, and her office is very clean and inviting. The fertility consultation took all of three minutes. She was skeptical about starting testing ("We usually tell couples to try for a year"), but agreed to it when I meekly said I was ready to start getting some answers. I also pulled the "I'm over 30" card, which I think tipped the balance.

The first step was coming in for a pelvic ultrasound, which they perform there in the office. She would meet with me right afterward to discuss the scans. I scheduled the appointment for a week later.

Again, I anticipated the appointment with dread. The sonogram was vaginal, and what would that be like? And how would I react if there was something wrong? Lauren asked me what I hoped the results would be. "Well ..." I thought for a minute. "I hope there's something super minor wrong that can be easily fixed with some meds."

The morning of the appointment, I spent extra time getting ready. Full makeup, full hair, nice outfit. I looked very put-together, to cover up the fact that inside I was a big gross twisted knot. A pregnant girl (yes, "girl," not woman) sat across from me in the waiting room. She was holding a teddy bear the doctor's office had given her, and she was filling out forms with cute pink sketches of babies all over them. Do not fall apart, I ordered myself, blinking back tears and swallowing a lump of irrational rage.

First came a urine sample, then the ultrasound, which was way easier than the pap. We took a look at my insides, which actually makes for pretty riveting TV. There was my uterus, looking like a half-inflated whoopie cushion. There was one ovary. There was the other. I allowed myself one self-pitiful moment of wishing we were looking at a fetus. "Good luck!" chirped the sonographer as she exited the room after finishing.

Back out to the waiting room to wait for my OB. Pregnant Girl was gone. Good. Then back to a treatment room. I read half of a month-old issue of People while I waited, heart pounding.

Finally Dr. Danna entered. "Well," she announced, "everything was normal with your pap. And the ultrasound looks good too -- normal-sized uterus, normal-sized ovaries; the uterine walls are the right thickness." She also said something about a cyst that was consistent with ovulation, meaning I had ovulated -- something I already knew, but it was still gratifying to hear.

She encouraged me to have Philip tested, and she gave me the name of a reproductive specialist to call. She said something twice about "establishing myself" with them, which I didn't love; I don't want to become a fixture with those people. But whatever. Next step would be to have the specialist draw blood to check my hormones.

I left MASSIVELY relieved. I was wrong about what I told Lauren -- it was way better to hear that everything is fine. Once again, the appointment itself had been way less of a deal than worrying about it.

Now I've decided to give the testing route a rest for a couple of weeks. We'll know soon enough if we were successful this month, and I'm trying to keep my emotions in check. Two doctor's appointments in one month is enough for my fragile psyche. It's still possible that nothing whatsoever is wrong with me or Philip, and I'm not ready to fully concede to the i word just yet.

*When people say to me that it's "only" been five months, I have to restrain myself from ripping their heads off, as each month feels like an eternity when you're unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant.

FIVE MONTHS

Erika,

I'm thinking of you guys tonight at work. I just scanned a woman who is 7 weeks pregnant with twins. She and her husband are in the ER because she has vaginal bleeding. They have been trying to get pregnant for two years. They are emotionally drained as they have been on a roller coaster over the last two years and, especially, today as they fear miscarriage. Watching their raw emotions broke my heart. I actually struggled not to cry while scanning them and listening to their tears, fears, and the husband's sweet whispered support. I'm not sure that the babies are going to make it, but I am praying for them. I am praying for you guys too. I hope that your journey to parenthood is short and without complications, despite your current frustration.

love you guys,

Sara

_____________________________________________________________________________

Sara, your message really means a lot to me -- thank you! That is so sad about your patient. After the joy of finally conceiving after all that time, I can't imagine the crushing blow that it must be to fear that you're miscarrying. :(

I really appreciate your prayers. I've started spotting, which means my period is about to start, so I already had a good cry about that last night. So we have been trying for five months now unsuccessfully. I don't really know what to think ... Do I stop charting? Do I make an appointment with the ob? Do we just keep on doing what we've been doing, even though it hasn't been working? Do I stay hopeful? Do I let it go? Do I just assume we aren't meant to have kids and start thinking about future trips and other goals? Do I look into adoption? Or am I completely overreacting, as they say 85 percent of couples get pregnant within a year of trying? It is indeed very draining.

Thank you again for your loving note. 

XO,

E

_____________________________________________________________________________ 

Erika, I think that you should hang in there. Not everyone gets pregnant immediately. Sometimes it does take time. I think that you should continue to plan fun things for the two of you. Although you are trying, you are not parents yet. You should still travel, be spontaneous, and have all the parentless fun that you can. This is the season of life that you are in now. Enjoy the present. In the future you will be parents and that will be a whole new lifestyle. A different kind of fun. Keep trying, but enjoy today or you are going to miss it completely. Don't be shy with your doctor. At five months out, your doctor may not be helpful or encouraging, but don't be scared to speak with him/her. Ask what your options are. Ask if you can be referred to a specialist. God will bless you with a baby in His time. Remember, His time is very different from our time. Thankfully, His time is perfect.

Sara

DEUS EX MASSAGE

Tonight I had my fourth massage by Danielle at Massage Envy. I have a membership there, a gift from Philip that makes me feel both supremely thankful and also pretty indulgent. But my close friend Audrey insists I keep making appointments there to take care of myself and keep my stress and anxiety at bay, as stress can delay ovulation, cause illness and in general prevent Philip and me from being in the mood to do that which we need to do to achieve our goal of getting pregnant.

I keep going back to Danielle because she's not only skilled at massage therapy, but she also struck me as being attentive from the first time she treated me. She found my trouble spots and, just from interpreting my muscle tension, was even able to deduce that I sit at a computer for a living.

As I drove to the appointment tonight, I thought about how I wanted to tell her Philip and I are trying to conceive, as maybe there's some specific technique she could use that might help. At the very least, I wanted to tell her I was under a higher-than-normal amount of stress lately and needed all her soothing powers to be in full force. But being shy, I didn't say a word.

During my other sessions with Danielle, we haven't spoken, which is how I like it. I just want to enjoy the massage and not be bothered. This time though, just a couple minutes into the massage, she asked me a strange question: "I feel like I know you from outside Massage Envy. Do you go to church anywhere?"

"My husband and I have been to Summit Church before," I responded through the hole in the face rest. "Have you heard of it?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "My husband and I go to the Plaza location."

Though we didn't ever figure out how we might have crossed paths outside the clinic, her question opened the door to a conversation that was even more life-giving than the massage. We talked about church and marriage and buying a house; she and her husband of less than a year are closing on a place this Friday. Then she asked me directly, "Do you have kids?"

"No," I said. "We're trying. It's so stressful."

"Yeah," she said with genuine sympathy. "How long have you been trying?"

"Four months," I answered.

"That's not that long."

"Yeah, but it feels like forever."

"I'm sure," she said reassuringly. "I recommend that you keep getting massages as often as you can. They stimulate blood flow and help with relaxation."

"Yes, ma'am!" I joked.

I told her about Toni Weschler's book, Taking Charge of your Fertility, and how I'd been off birth control and charting for more than a year. I explained OPKs and asked her about acupuncture. We discussed the documentary The Business of Being Born and birthing-center versus hospital births and my friends' various experiences with both. And she shared with me about being present recently as her sister was in labor; Danielle was there massaging her in the delivery room.

Then I shared with her about how Philip and I had been quarreling because of the stress of trying to conceive, about how it was much harder than I had anticipated. I said praying every morning was a lifeline, and I was trying to trust God. She immediately affirmed me. "Yes, He is in control, despite how often we try to plan everything out, and His timing is often different from ours. But you can trust Him to know what's best."

Let's all just pause for a moment and remember that I'm face-down on a massage table talking to someone whose previous words to me hadn't gone beyond, "How's the pressure?" Given our unique circumstances, I received Danielle's words as a simple reminder from above, and coming from her open heart, they didn't sound trite in the slightest.

Danielle was so kind and encouraging, so interested and compassionate. I felt a true emotional connection with her and was so uplifted by her listening ear. When the massage was over and she stepped out of the room so I could dress, I laid on the massage table and welled up a little; a wave washed over my spirit that said, "This is Me, showing you how much I love you, child." I am often confused by the Bible and feel uncomfortable with evangelicalism, but I can't deny these personal experiences with God, where it feels like he comes down out of heaven and dwells, of all places, in a treatment room of a massage clinic.

As I was leaving, Danielle said, "I'll be praying for you! I look forward to your next appointment to find out what happened!" I am just so ridiculously blessed.

OPKs and BFFs

Discussing Philip's upcoming work travel a couple weeks back, he and I ran into a predicament: I suspected I would ovulate during a particular week, and he was supposed to be in Huntsville, Alabama, for work during said week.

As you may realize, in order for a child to be conceived, the mother and father have to be in the same state during the time of ovulation. But further complicating things is that unlike all you lucky ladies who ovulate "like clockwork," my cycle likes to keep things interesting.

"Can you be SURE you'll ovulate that week?" asked Philip, who was reticent to change his travel plans — and those of all his colleagues — for my best shot in the dark. No, I could not be sure, but it was a definite possibility.

The whole conversation was frustrating and felt lose-lose. If he traveled, he would likely miss my ovulation. If he postponed his trip, he would aggravate his coworkers, and it would be a whole ordeal. Philip travels often for work, so this wasn't the first time we'd gotten into such a jam. He ultimately decided to change the travel dates, which made me feel both grateful and guilty.

The next day at work, I shared what had happened with my good friend Lauren over IM. "I JUST started a new cycle, and the situation is already loaded up with pressure and conflict," I bemoaned.

Lauren listened compassionately and offered her encouragement. I went on, "It doesn't help that my cycle is just such a guessing game. I think I'm ready to try an ovulation-predictor kit (OPK)."

"Is that the one with the smiley face?" Lauren asked.

"I don't know!" I said. "What's that?"

She went on to tell me about a friend of hers who had a pee test she took every morning; when she wasn't about to ovulate, the result was a frowny face, and when she was about to ovulate, it turned into a smiley face. The friend awoke hungover one morning, took the test, and got her smiley face — so she woke up her equally hungover husband, knew him in the biblical sense, and successfully conceived.

"What kind of OPK do you want?" she asked me.

"I don't know," I said. "I haven't researched them much. They're pretty expensive, so it's hard to justify. But that smiley-face one sounds awesome!"

"Don't buy it," she typed from her computer. "It'll be here in three to five business days."

It took me a minute to realize what had happened: Lauren had just gone ahead and bought me an OPK online.

The act delighted and humbled me. In addition to being a good listener and offering uplifting words, Lauren did something — something pretty unconventional (how many people do you know who have bought their friends OPKs?) — for me. No more waffling about whether an OPK was worth the money; it was on the way.

A few days later, when I got to my work cubicle, there was a small box wrapped in brown paper and a green ribbon. I started testing the very next day. (When you're not about to ovulate, only an empty circle appears — sadly, there is no frowny face. Joking about this later with some girlfriends, we said they could really get more creative with it, like, when you're not about to ovulate, it says something like, "Not yet! Chill out!" And then when you are about to ovulate, it says, "Get busy!")

I tested for about five days when I observed one of my body's natural cues that ovulation was imminent. Sure enough, the next morning, the OPK concurred: I got my smiley face!

It was a relief to have a concrete piece of technology verify when was the best time to try. It was a relief that it aligned with my own fertility charting. And it was a giant relief to know that I have good friends who have my back, not only with prayers and encouraging words, but also with bold, get-'er-done actions that help to solve my problems. I hope I'm the same kind of friend to others.